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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349474">His Unworthy Arms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lake_King/pseuds/The_Lake_King'>The_Lake_King</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2021 Valentine's Prompts [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Downton Abbey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friendship/Love, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:46:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lake_King/pseuds/The_Lake_King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 11. "Wait, are you jealous?"</p>
<p>Thomas has a fancy man. Jimmy finds the situation unacceptable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent, Thomas Barrow/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2021 Valentine's Prompts [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Well I love you: Valentines for Thomas Barrow</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>His Unworthy Arms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jimmy had come to a decision. The decision followed a realization, which had followed nearly two whole weeks of lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling and trying to mental-gymnastic trick his way out of things that were becoming too obvious to be ignored. But he was going to do it. It was just a question of how and when. He had thought of slipping into Thomas’ room at night and kissing <em>him</em> while <em>he</em> slept. But that felt wrong and like hitting a little too close to home. He had also considered letting it slip casually in the yard, while they smoked. It had been on the tip of his tongue yesterday, but Thomas looked so lovely and sad in the cool morning light that Jimmy was quite sure if he said anything at all he might cry. Downing some whiskey and coming by after dark under the pretense of playing cards posed the same problem. Waiting until their half-day on Friday would mean privacy from the house but not privacy from the world, and at this point he required complete privacy because no one but Thomas was allowed to see him cry.</p>
<p>So tonight it would have to be. No pretense, no drinking, no nothing. Just Jimmy rolling over and showing his soft parts, trusting that Thomas would pet him and not rip his guts out. He knew the odds on that were in his favour, but his hand still trembled as he styled his hair just-so. Right. Step one: getting through breakfast in one piece.</p>
<p>He was the last one down. He sat next to Thomas, who was already most of the way through his toast and tea and was drumming his fingers on the table. He didn’t say good morning. He didn’t even look at Jimmy, and stood up almost as soon as the footman sat down.</p>
<p>“Where are you off to?” Jimmy asked, plastering on a smile.</p>
<p>“I’ve some errands to run in Thirsk,” Thomas answered dismissively. He slipped out without another word as the bells started ringing.</p>
<p>In the endless hustle and bustle of the day, Jimmy hardly had a spare moment to contemplate Thomas’ standoffishness or hasty exit. He did wonder, as he stuffed a sandwich in his mouth for lunch, if perhaps he had just missed some unpleasant exchange with Carson or Bates. That would explain it. Yes, that was probably what it was all about. And Jimmy would cheer him up tonight.</p>
<p>Except, when Thomas swooped into the kitchen for dinner service, he didn’t look like he needed cheering up in the least. He had a look about him like a cat lounging in the sun, easy and sated. Though his expression would have seemed neutral to most, Jimmy noticed the tiny tug of dimples.</p>
<p>“You’re in a fine mood, Mr. Barrow,” Jimmy murmured as they made their way up.</p>
<p>“It’s a fine day,” he replied.</p>
<p>Jimmy’s stomach squirmed through dinner service. Which it really had no right to be doing because everything was fine. He was just going to declare his love to his very male best mate tonight. His very male best mate who was ignoring him. They usually shared little looks while the family talked, too subtle for even Carson to notice. Now Thomas was a perfect statue, staring into middle distance. The dimples remained.</p>
<p>Jimmy hated it. He hated it more when Thomas swept off upstairs early and left him sitting alone at the piano, plonking out some mindless melody. Now he had no more excuse to put it off. It was time to get up and do what he had to do. No matter what was going on with Thomas. Right. Good. Step one: stand up.</p>
<p>Step two: go upstairs.</p>
<p>Step three: put on pyjamas.</p>
<p>Step four: take the cards because would it really hurt to have a pretense? What if someone unwanted showed up? Cards are good. Yes.</p>
<p>Step five: approach.</p>
<p>Step six: knock.</p>
<p>“Yes?” Thomas blocked the door with his frame. Jimmy could see his nipples through his undershirt.</p>
<p>“Cards?” he croaked, unceremoniously.</p>
<p>“I—I don’t think I’m in the mood, Jimmy.”</p>
<p>“What happened today?”</p>
<p>“What d’you mean?”</p>
<p>“Somethin’ happened. You’ve been tryin’ not to grin like a lunatic, but you can’t fool me, Mr. Barrow.”</p>
<p>Thomas ducked his head and his mouth twisted. “I don’t think you want to hear about it,” he said quietly.</p>
<p>“We’re mates, right? C’mon, lemme in.”</p>
<p>Thomas reluctantly stood aside. Jimmy bounded in and sat on the bed.</p>
<p>“Make yourself comfortable, why don’t you,” the under-butler muttered with no bite. Jimmy stuck his tongue out at him, which finally coaxed a proper smile from those red, red lips.</p>
<p>“So?” Jimmy demanded.</p>
<p>“You have to promise not to get in a huff.”</p>
<p>“Pff.”</p>
<p>“Promise me, Jimmy.” Thomas’ eyes were open and vulnerable, something pleading in them.</p>
<p>Jimmy’s stomach bottomed out. “I promise.”</p>
<p>Thomas heaved a deep breath. “I’ve met someone,” he said quietly.</p>
<p>It took a few seconds for Jimmy to understand. He felt as though all his organs had disappeared. He was empty skin, liable to collapse like wet papier-mâché. It must have shown. Thomas’ face hardened and he turned away.</p>
<p>“I knew you wouldn’t want to hear it. Forget I said anything.”</p>
<p>“How?” Jimmy demanded, finding his voice again.</p>
<p>“Whatcha mean how? I do continue to exist when you’re not around y’know.”</p>
<p>“Alright but who is he? When did you meet?” This wasn’t happening.</p>
<p>“It’s the delivery man. From the grocer.”</p>
<p>“You’re kidding me.”</p>
<p>“His name’s Victor,” Thomas said quietly.</p>
<p>“That…” He wanted to say something unpleasant about him, but he couldn’t even picture the bastard. Jimmy knew, in the logical part of his head, that he had no right to resent the man. The rest of him wanted blood. “I mean, d’you have to do that?” He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it.</p>
<p>“I knew I shouldn’t’ve told you.” Thomas’ mask had slammed back into place like a portcullis. Jimmy wanted to scream. “You keep sayin’ we’re mates, but I know it’s not alright for you. Don’t worry; I won’t bother you with it anymore.”</p>
<p>“It isn’t like that!”</p>
<p>“Then what is it like, Jimmy?” Thomas held himself high in challenge.</p>
<p>There was nothing he could say. Everything had gone so wrong. This was the time and the place where they were supposed to be wrapped in each other’s arms, touching and kissing and warm. Instead Jimmy was sat on a cold bed in a cold room, looking into cold eyes that had moved on from him.</p>
<p>“That’s what I thought,” Thomas said in the face of his silence. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed.”</p>
<p>Jimmy flinched when the door clicked shut behind him. He was quite sure somebody else had hauled him up off Thomas’ bed by marionette strings and walked him out to the hallway, only to cut him loose now. He stumbled to his own room and crawled into bed. Was this how Thomas had felt? How had he carried on with life? Jimmy wanted to curl into a ball beneath the covers and never get up again.</p>
<p>Light crept into his room and pierced his already-open eyes uninvited. Time to get up, get shaved, get dressed, go downstairs. Time to stare at his toast while Thomas ignored him. And he couldn’t complain. Because as one day slid into the next, Thomas was perfectly civil towards him. More than, really. He still looked out for him, still defended him. But there were no more jokes and shared cigarettes, late nights or glances in the dining room. When Friday came around, Thomas left the Abbey on his own and came back smiling again.</p>
<p>It was the smile that kept Jimmy silent. He couldn’t fault either of them for this taste of the bitterness he had shoved down Thomas’ throat by the bottle during that horrid year. Because someone was finally making Thomas happy, and it was no one’s fault but his own that that someone wasn’t him.</p>
<p>He managed to keep his mouth shut for three whole weeks, and rather thought he should get some kind of medal for it. He had never noticed Victor before, but now he bloody did. Every time the produce came in, there he was, with his smirks and his too-close-together eyes. He wasn’t even handsome. Or particularly bright. He seemed to follow cricket though, so maybe they talked about that. Could you build a romance on cricket? And God, he was so <em>obvious.</em></p>
<p>That was what did it, in the end. And what was Jimmy supposed to do when the lummox <em>bent over</em> in front of Thomas like that? In broad daylight? He started sweating reflexively when the deliveries came in. The stupid bastard was going to get Thomas in trouble. Even Alfred seemed to be suspicious. Something had to be done.</p>
<p>Jimmy took his chance when Victor dawdled after the goods were away. He leaned against the wall, smoking (Thomas’ brand of cigarettes, Jimmy could tell by the smell) as if he hadn’t a care in the world. If he was waiting for the under-butler to come out to the yard over some made-up problem, he was sorely mistaken.</p>
<p>“What do you think you’re playin’ at?” Jimmy hissed, shooting a glance at the door. Didn’t he know that every extra moment he lingered here was one step closer to Carson noticing him and wondering why there seemed to suddenly be so many issues related to carrots?</p>
<p>“’Scuse me?” Victor sniffed, looking down his nose at him. Jimmy suddenly felt terribly short. Which was ridiculous.</p>
<p>“Look,” he leaned in and Victor raised an eyebrow, “I know about what you’ve got goin’ on. But you can’t…you can’t keep <em>flauntin’</em> it like that. You’re gonna get him in trouble.”</p>
<p>He had hoped that it might be a sobering experience for the other man. Instead he looked him up and down in that infuriatingly snide way he had. “You’re Jimmy, en’t ya?”</p>
<p>“I am. What of it?”</p>
<p>“Thomas told me about you. Don’t see why what I’m doin’ out here is any of your business. Why dontcha go back inside and polish some boots like a good boy?”</p>
<p>Jimmy took a deep breath. “It’s my business,” he said, with all the patience he could muster, “Because he’s my friend, and I don’t want to see him get hurt.” It was probably the most sincere thing he had said to anybody all week, and he was wasting it on bloody <em>Victor.</em></p>
<p>Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, are you jealous?”</p>
<p>Jimmy blushed to the roots of his hair. Was he so horribly transparent? Probably. Shite, Thomas probably <em>knew</em>, and this was not going to plan at all—</p>
<p>“Oh <em>God.</em>” Thomas’ lover laughed, pitching his cig and doubling over in his hilarity. “What he saw in you I’ll never know. I’ve seen your type before, I ’ave. Wouldn’t touch a cock if your life depended on it but you need the attention, dontcha? Did daddy not give ya enough?”</p>
<p>Jimmy had punched a man before, many times. He had never slapped one. The sound rang out like a whipcrack. All in all, he admired his own restraint. </p>
<p>“James!” Any satisfaction that was coursing through him instantly ran cold. Thomas stood in the yard, his face unyielding. “Go inside.”</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“Now.”</p>
<p>He obeyed, blocking out the sound of Victor’s whinging. He was glad of it when Alfred dragged him into polishing silver for most of the day, so he didn’t have to see Mr. Barrow. The silver had never been so clean. Even Mr. Carson dropped a word of praise his way. No mention was made of the incident in the yard. Thomas had covered for him yet again, and that had no right to hurt so much.</p>
<p>Thomas was opaque through dinner and went up early. Jimmy felt dread curl in his stomach. He had well and truly blown whatever chance he had at making things right. And if there was any hope, he was probably going to have to <em>apologize</em> to the bastard. It hardly bore thinking about. But if that’s what it took, he would do it for Thomas. He would even take initiative if need be.</p>
<p>He was standing in front of his mirror, trying for contrition with mixed results when knocking sounded at his door.</p>
<p>“Jimmy?” Thomas called softly.</p>
<p>The footman let him in, noticing with an ache in his chest that even now, after everything, his friend hesitated at the threshold like a vampire. Thomas sat on the bed, looking at the palms of his hands. Jimmy opened his mouth and shut it a few times, but eventually decided to sit beside him in silence.</p>
<p>“Things are over with Victor.” There was no emotion behind the words.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Jimmy whispered. He half-meant it.</p>
<p>Thomas shrugged. “It was fun while it lasted. But I can’t have him lolling about like he runs the place and causing a scene.” He looked up, grey eyes searching Jimmy’s face. “I’m sorry for what he said to you. I swear, all I told him was that you’re my friend, and that I’d tried it on with you but you aren’t like that.”</p>
<p>“I—So—you don’t love him?” Jimmy tried, his voice jumping appallingly high.</p>
<p>“Christ, no. What?”</p>
<p>Jimmy tried to tamp down his smile. “Good. He’s a clod.”</p>
<p>Thomas laughed, bright and open and rare. “He is a bit.” He looked at Jimmy for a long moment and bit his lip. “Is that what you were upset about? Was it because you don’t like him, and not…y’know?”</p>
<p>“Sort of,” Jimmy deflected, rubbing the back of his neck. “But if you think he’s a clod too, why’d you do it?”</p>
<p>“Not many opportunities for that kind of thing, are there?” There was no bitterness in his voice. Only a sort of tiredness that smacked of <em>we’re here because we’re here because we’re here.</em> “I can’t exactly afford to be choosy, and there he was.”</p>
<p>“Was that what it was like with me?” The words flew out of his mouth like birds startled from a belfry. Thomas’ entire body tensed.</p>
<p>“Don’t ask questions when you don’t want to know the answers,” he murmured, staring at the floor.</p>
<p>“I want to know,” Jimmy whispered. “I need to know. Was it just ’cause I was here?”</p>
<p>Thomas sighed and closed his eyes. “You know it isn’t, Jimmy, don’t make me spell it out.”</p>
<p>Isn’t. Not wasn’t. Jimmy slid closer so their thighs pressed together. “Good,” he said, the word coming out small and secret. When he laid a tentative hand on Thomas’ knee it was like touching stone. “Thing is, Victor was halfway right.” He swallowed. “I was jealous. But not just ’cause I want your attention.” Thomas’ eyes were bright. Nothing hid behind them; it was all laid bare. All the longing and hurt and fear was before him in a way that it hadn’t been since that awful night. “Am I too late?”</p>
<p>Thomas reached up to brush gloved knuckles against his cheek. It was a gesture of utmost gentleness, of reverence. “You could never be too late,” he whispered.</p>
<p>“Never?” He tried to reign in the hot pricking in his eyes, but it was no use. It didn’t matter, in the end, when Thomas was there to cradle his face and kiss his tears away one by one as they fell.</p>
<p>“Never.”</p>
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